MInE: A Hate Story

by Andie M. Long

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Inez

  4 September 2014

  After spending the first couple of days inconsolable, my mood shifts to anger. It would seem I’m going through something akin to a bereavement. When Ed had his clothes collected it was a wake-up call that he really had moved on. Perhaps he needed to fuck another woman, get it out of his system and then come back? Maybe he needed a proper vagina now, a regular life? Who the fuck knew, seeing as he wouldn’t speak to me. I had hours alone, to think things through. I realised that I’d spent my life playing a fiddle to someone else’s music. Who was I? Who did I want to be? I was neither Jarrod, son of a fervent Christian father who would have turned in his grave if he had seen who I’d become, nor did I want to be Inez anymore - manufactured by Ed and a group of physicians. I wanted to be me.

  I need to get out of this fucking house. Its greys make me gloomy, and the empty pet basket hurts my stomach. I need to let rip somehow. I pick up my phone and press my hotkey to Selma.

  ‘Fancy a drink somewhere?’

  ‘It’s only eleven-thirty!’ she mocks.

  ‘It’ll be after lunch by the time you’re ready. I need to get drunk. Life’s a bastard, and I need a rest from it.’

  ‘Where and when?’

  Fantastic. She’s such a support. I don’t know what I would do without her.

  The first thing I do is order a beer. I stick to a half. Ed always poured wine and said beer was unladylike. He’d let me drink beer at his house when I was Jarrod, but once Inez existed, it was wine only, or a glass of champagne – which was like piss. I guzzle my beer down and order another. I can do what the fuck I like today.

  Selma strolls into the pub as I’m finishing my second drink and grins. She looks amazing in a long maxi dress with a shrug style cardigan. I wish I had her sense of style.

  ‘Goodness me. Can’t even wait?’ She nods at my glass. ‘What’re you drinking?’ Then she heads to the bar. She returns with two more half pints of beer. ‘I quite like a beer myself. Much better than a glass of wine.’

  ‘Isn’t it just?’ I smile. ‘Selma. I’ve made a decision. Even if Ed returns. I’m going to be me. Not Jarrod, not Inez. Just… me.’

  She looks at me over the top of her half pint glass. ‘And who are you?’

  ‘I don’t know yet.’

  We fall about laughing.

  ‘Well, for now, I think we should stick to the name Inez until you’ve had a chance to think about a new one. You don’t want to keep changing it because you’ve thought of a better one.’

  ‘I guess I can hold onto that name a little longer. I’m changing though Selma. It’s like with Mel I was a caterpillar, camouflaged by leaves. Then with Ed, I’ve been in a chrysalis. Now I can finally be me. If he doesn’t like it, he knows what he can do.’

  ‘While I like your confidence, Inez, I do feel you’re probably having a reaction to your present situation. You might feel different in a few days, or when Ed deigns to get in touch.’

  My shoulders fall. ‘Do you think so?’

  She shrugs. ‘Probably.’ She puts a hand over mine on the table. ‘That’s not to say you won’t do all those things, but you can’t decide your future life in five seconds flat. You’ve been with Mel and then Ed. Are you going to manage on your own? Will you stay on the estate? Is it your house or Ed’s?’

  I sit back and sigh. ‘It’s Ed’s house. I have nothing in savings. I gave our house over to Mel through guilt, and Ed wouldn’t let me work.’

  ‘Did you use to work?’

  ‘I was an electrician. Not much call for a transgender sparky.’ I wink.

  ‘Well if you continue to have those negative thoughts you’ll certainly never get anywhere. Anyway, if you’re having a new start, you can have a new career. What would you like to do?’

  I ponder for a minute. ‘Actually, I love makeup. I’d like to work on a makeup counter and help people make the best of themselves.’

  ‘Well, I’m sure you could get a job like that no problem. Why not start looking through the employment websites? Beats sitting at home pining for your pooch and waiting for Ed to call.’

  I realise I’ve drunk another half pint. ‘Want another?’ I ask Selma.

  ‘I’ve only had the top out of this one,’ she says. ‘Would you get me some water? I’ve got a bit of a headache.’

  ‘Lightweight,’ I tease.

  ‘Lush,’ She teases back.

  The lunchtime rush has come in, and it takes a while for me to get back to Selma. When I return, she’s just finishing her half. ‘Took you long enough,’ I say.

  ‘It’s nice to see you like this,’ Selma replies. ‘It’s like a weight’s been lifted off you. I’m surprised. After what’s happened to you, I thought you’d be in a heap.’

  I nod. ‘I thought I would be too, but without Edward here, it’s showing me what control he had over me. I can please myself now.’

  ‘Oh yeah?’ Selma winks.

  ‘Oh, my God, no.’ I blush. ‘I haven’t had any thoughts in that direction.’

  ‘You’ll have to excuse me. I need to pee,’ she says. ‘I don’t know how you’ve not had to go yet.’

  ‘I’m not a lightweight.’ I laugh.

  While I wait for Selma to return, one of the bar staff heads over to our table. It’s not the one who served me but an older bloke. He looks mid-forties. ‘Excuse me,’ he says, his arms folded across his chest. ‘I’ve had a complaint about you.’

  My forehead creases. ‘Sorry?’ I look around. He can’t mean me, I’ve not done anything.

  ‘About who you are. What you are.’ He spits. ‘There’s no place in here for your sort. I need you to leave.’

  My eyes widen. ‘But I haven’t done anything wrong. All I’ve done is sit and enjoy a drink with my friend.’

  He looks around. ‘And where’s your friend now?’

  ‘In the bathroom.’

  ‘Well, I’ll ask her to meet you outside. Now let’s not have any trouble. Pick up your bag and go, and don’t come back – you’re barred.’

  ‘And you’re a bigot!’ I yell. Three halves of beer have gone to my head after drinking them in such a short period of time. My anger about Ed gets projected at this man, obviously the manager or landlord. I stand up, my six-foot frame swamping him by at least five inches.

  A woman comes up with her boyfriend. She jumps up and pulls my wig off revealing my own patchy medium length hair. It hurts like a bitch as it was gripped in place. ‘Look, it’s a ladyboy.’ she laughs.

  ‘Get out, queer,’ yells her boyfriend.

  I grab my belongings, whip my wig from the floor and dash out of the pub. I quickly pull my wig back onto my head and dive into an alleyway. I take deep breaths, taking out my mirror and fixing my wig back in place. That’s what’s more important. People have noticed me though and are staring.

  I hear Selma shouting my name and peek out of the alleyway, beckoning her.

  ‘What’s going on? I came out of the loo, and the landlord said he’d thrown you out?’

  I start to tear up. ‘It was horrendous, Selma, I don’t know how I ever imagined I could lead a normal life.’ I explain what had happened in the pub.

  ‘Hey,’ she says. ‘No talk like that. Days like this are going to happen. You have to learn to deal with them. Come on.’ She grabs my arm. ‘We’ll go back to yours and grab a six-pack of beer on the way.’

  Selma

  It seems so cruel to hit someone when they’re down, doesn’t it? A little like, for instance, when your wife’s lost your baby and instead of visiting her in hospital you remain with your lover and forget she exists. When Inez went to the bar for our drinks, I rang the bar and told them there was a tall woman in the bar who was a trans prostitute picking up tricks for later. She was becoming well known for it, and they should watch out for her. I’d described her jacket. I didn’t know if they’d take me seriously, but when I saw the man from the bar heading in our direction, I’d made out I need
ed the loo. Then in the toilet, I’d seen a young teenage woman, pissed or drugged out of her mind. She’d asked to borrow my lipstick. I told her she could have it if she did me a favour. It’s a Kylie Jenner lipstick, and her eyes went wider than Kylie’s lips. I told her there was a ‘fucking tranny’ in the bar. ‘Go and have a look. Drinking beer, dressed in a floral blouse and tight grey skirt. Hilarious.’ She giggled. Said it would give her and her boyfriend a right laugh. To be honest, Inez had looked elegant in her new wig, but the pisshead wouldn’t worry about that.

  By the time I came out of the bar, there’s no sign of Inez. The drunk girl nudges my arm as I pass her. ‘Saw that drag woman. She was getting thrown out. Fucking queer.’ Her boyfriend pulls a face, ‘Not fucking normal that.’

  I don’t acknowledge them further and walk out of the bar in search of Inez, where I intend to console her and act like the best friend she ever had. I laugh to myself. Oh, like I was before when I was Melissa. Only this time I’ll be the one leaving and destroying everything in her path. I find her in an alleyway, wig dishevelled and with a small group of spectators. I barge past them and dash up to her. Ask her if she’s okay. I tell her we’ll go to her house. A drunk Inez is an out of control Inez. Time to encourage it and see what further destruction I can cause before I visit her husband and see if he’s ready to give up his secrets yet.

  Inez

  ‘Oh, my God, I’m completely smashed,’ I tell Selma as if she can’t tell when I’m swaying and having to hold onto the walls to walk around.

  ‘Me too,’ says Selma, who’s let herself go and bought herself a bottle of vodka. She lies back on the sofa and sighs. ‘You need some fun. What shall we do now?’

  ‘I think we should have a spend of some of Ed’s money, don’t you?’

  She sits up, ‘Yes! Fantastic idea. Get his credit cards.’

  ‘Right, let’s max out his cards before he decides to cut me off.’

  ‘What?’ Selma looks at me and then closes her eyes as if the effort’s too much.

  ‘Selma.’ I nudge her. ‘Come on. Help me choose some new furniture. This manly shit’s got to go.’

  Selma opens one eye. ‘You need to choose. Time for you to make decisions on your own.’

  ‘But what shall I start with?’

  She sighs and grabs the laptop, and types in the name of a top store that sells household furniture and delivers next day for a fee. ‘Get on with it. Sofa. Chair. Cushions. Curtains. Rug. Bits of ornament shit. I’m going to sleep. When I wake up I expect you to have spent a shitload of Ed’s money and then tomorrow morning, we’ll need to throw all this furniture out. I know a charity actually, they’ll come and fetch it.’

  Selma falls asleep, and I sit back and relax, chilled out from the booze. I order heaps of stuff before I crawl onto the other end of the sofa and close my own eyes.

  I wake to find the room in total darkness apart from a touch of light from the moon. I clutch my head and make my way over to the clock on the mantle. It’s five am. Selma is still asleep on the other side of the sofa. She looks so peaceful. The moon casts its light across a cheekbone. She’s so very beautiful. I reach over and gently touch her cheek to see if her skin is as smooth as it appears. It is. The pads of my fingers sweep across her brow. I don’t know whether to leave her to sleep here or tell her she can use the spare room.

  With my hand still on her face and while I’m lost in thought, I don’t realise that Selma has opened her eyes. Her eyes widen.

  ‘Sorry. I was just, well…’ I flush red. ‘I wanted to see if your skin was as smooth as it looked.’

  Selma sits up a little and pushes her hair out of her face. Her grey eyes fix on mine. ‘And was it?’

  ‘Yes. Your skin is so soft and beautiful. I wish I could have skin like that.’

  She brings her hand up to mine and runs her fingers down my face. ‘Inez, you are beautiful. Can you not see that? Both inside and outside. I can see it. Let me show you.’

  She leans forward and puts her lips on mine. I hesitate. Selma is my friend, and if I go here, I could lose her. Then I think of Ed and imagine him fucking that Sam bitch. Next, I stop thinking at all.

  I move my lips against Selma’s. Then press harder against her mouth. Her mouth opens, and her tongue seeks mine. I’m so used to being directed by Ed in what we do that I decide to take charge. To see what it’s like to fuck someone how I want to. I stop and ask Selma to come to my bedroom.

  I’m sure she’s going to say no, leave, and I’ll never see her again. Instead, she nods her head and follows me upstairs. She said she’d had both male and female lovers. Now she was about to fuck a mixture of both. I go with my gut feelings and my longings and don’t question whether I’m playing a male or female role. I just have a need, an urge, to make love as myself. Not as a cuckolded husband and not as a controlled wife. I strip Selma of her clothes and find myself in awe of her body. She’s toned, with definition to her arms. Her breasts are medium and pert, they could almost be false, but I guess it’s the exercise that made them this way. She pulls my top over my head and unfastens my bra. I fold my arms across my chest.

  ‘No. Don’t hide yourself,’ says Selma.

  I remember my promise to own this and drop my arms. I lift Selma and place her on the bed, then lie at the side of her propped up on pillows.

  ‘Let me look at you,’ she says.

  I lie back. Selma’s gaze on my body is so intense I imagine I feel a burn. She strokes my cheek, a flash of longing on her face. Her fingertips trail down my neck, scratching there. I turn my neck and push up into her fingers, the feel of her nails on my skin is divine and causes goosebumps. Further down, she trails her fingers across my chest and then cups one of my breasts in her hand. She palms it, my nipple hardening under her touch. She moves to sit astride my legs so she can gain a better reach and takes my nipple into her mouth. Her hands still roam my body, gently scraping my skin with her nails. I’m on fire. I love being scratched. There’s a connection between us as if she knows how to touch me. I’m lost. The alcohol and sensations have me in their thrall. She moves off me and reaches for the zip on my skirt.

  I grab her hand. ‘Not yet,’ I say, and I flip her over.

  I sit astride Selma’s body as she did mine and trail my tongue down her neck, dipping into her ear. I feel her shiver beneath me. I move lower, trailing my tongue over her toned stomach. Parting her legs, I pause, staring at her pussy. Unlike mine, hers is damn perfect. Natural. I place a finger on her and rub the wetness there. Fascinated I suck on my finger tasting her juices. I never went down on Mel. Could never look at her pussy. I was too confused over how I felt about my sexuality and too damn jealous that she had one and I didn’t. My head lowers to her pussy, and I lick there. She bucks against my mouth and tongue. I must be doing something right, despite my cunnilingus virginity. Ed has always adored my blowjobs though. Selma pants and comes against my face, then she grabs my head and drags me up her body.

  ‘It’s your turn. Tell me what you want me to do?’

  I open my bedside drawer and remove a five-inch dildo and some lube.

  Selma takes them off me and looks to me for direction.

  ‘My pussy doesn’t get wet like yours does. That’s why I have the lube.’

  ‘Do you come the same?’

  I nod. ‘You’ll be surprised.’

  The hormones I take make my orgasms strong and plentiful. Selma rubs plenty of lube over and into me and over the tip of the dildo. I lie back against the cushions, close my eyes and spread my legs. There’s a pause. Selma is still, so I open my eyes to find her drinking me in. I guess it’s not often you get to look at a made vagina.

  ‘It’s so realistic,’ she says.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You really are female now?’

  ‘You sound surprised?’

  ‘It’s one thing to be told it and another to see it with your own eyes.’

  ‘Do you want to stop?’

  ‘No,’ she say
s. ‘But I want you to close your eyes.’

  I feel the dildo nudge against my entrance. Selma rubs it around my formed clit. She rubs her fingers around me too. She’s clumsy, and at this point, I bite my lip as I really miss my husband. I wonder whether to stop the whole thing when she begins to push the dildo inside me and then there’s no turning back. I love the feel of it inside. I feel home. Though it’s Selma making the moves, in my mind, Ed is filling me with his dick, fucking me with his precise and controlled movements. He’s ordering me that I’m not allowed to come until he says so. Anger burns through me as I imagine his cock in this Sam woman and in my mind I’m defiant. I won’t be told when I can come, I’ll do it now. I will fuck this other cock until my pussy hurts. My hips rise, and I grind against the dildo. I feel flesh against me and open my eyes to find Selma holding the dildo against her pussy like it’s a dick and is fucking me like a dude.

  ‘Close your eyes,’ she whispers.

  Her thrusts become more powerful. ‘Come for me, Inez,’ she shouts. ‘Fuck me.’

  ‘Oh, my God, Selma, Yes.’

  I push myself on the dildo in a frenzy until I explode.

  I sigh with the release and lie back against my pillow. Then I wonder what the fuck I’ve just done and regret hits me like a sledgehammer. Selma excuses herself to use the bathroom, and when she’s gone, I weep like a baby.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Selma

  I rush to the bathroom and switch on the shower, taking care to remove my watch and place it on the window ledge. I grab a folded, clean small towel from the shelf and scrub every part of my body until it feels raw. I sit on the floor of the shower cubicle gagging. I’d not considered that Inez might develop feelings for me, but when she’d reached over and put her lips on mine, I had to make the decision to go for it. His lips felt the same as they always had, warm against mine, taking me back to when we’d been Mel and Jarrod, and I thought we’d been happy.